te 
Mere fl If ; 
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warder’s horn 
Ww Ne: 
ee Ad mr D 
ARK! hark! the merry 
) Far o’er the wooded hills is borne, 
ssi sian Far o’er the slopes of ripening corn, 
On the free breeze away ! 
The bolts are drawn ; the bridge is o’er 
The sullen moat,—and steeds a score 
Stand saddled at the castle-door, 
For ’tis a merry day! 
